


Mistakes

by Woofemus



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, TAGGING THIS SO YOU ALL KNOW WHAT YOU'RE GETTING INTO, nopon!brighid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 17:33:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13792659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woofemus/pseuds/Woofemus
Summary: Mòrag is in for more than she bargained for.





	Mistakes

**Author's Note:**

> ofc the first explicit fic I write is a shitpost
> 
> what's my life come to

The moment Mòrag finishes her incantation, smoke billows out from the summoning portal. This is it, she thinks, her heart drumming in anticipation. She’d already resigned herself to her fate, but now, she’s truly beyond the point of no return.

If this is what she must do to save Niall, then so be it.

Except… there’s something… off. Even Mòrag, newly noviced as she is in her dealings with magic, can feel it. The hairs on the back of her neck are standing on end. A sinking feeling takes hold of her. Something… something is _wrong_ , but what, _what_ is it—

A figure emerges in the summoning circle then. Mòrag slowly turns her eyes to it.

It’s… it’s...

It’s... egg shaped?

Mòrag narrows her eyes as she racks her mind for what could that possibly even be. Egg-shaped? _Egg-shaped?_

It’s not even _human_ shaped, Mòrag is horrified to realize.

How did one banish demons, again? Mòrag’s certain there must be a method. Surely, there’ve been some people who’ve botched a summoning or two. Mòrag is _sure_ there must be _something_ out there that can put a demon back before it properly materializes into the world.

Now if only she knew what it was.

A thud makes Mòrag freeze in place.

Oh, _no._ She’s too late. The demon’s already stepped into the world.

The air becomes thick, almost suffocating to the point that Mòrag nearly chokes. There’s… some sort of strange feeling in the air. It’s electrifying, dizzying even. Every single hair on her body are standing in both fear and anticipation. Her mind’s reeling, and her knees are quaking.

This demon… perhaps, in spite of its peculiar shape, she’s summoned something far stronger than she can control.

Flames begin to ignite from the summoning portal. Mòrag nearly screams, shutting her eyes as the flames race toward her. They engulf her entire body. It’s blisteringly hot, and Mòrag can’t help but feel as if the flames are trying to devour her alive.

Then, the flames disappear. Rather, they move off her body and seemingly splatter against the walls of the room instead. Mòrag immediately opens her eyes, honing in on the circle.

Out waddles the demon.

Mòrag slowly turns her head down and stares.

The demon stares back—er, Mòrag isn’t actually sure. The demon’s eyes are… closed. But it’s facing exactly toward her. Which means... something, she guesses.

But, now that the flames aren’t obscuring her vision, Mòrag can finally see exactly _what_ the demon is. And, to her horror, she _knows_ what it is. She recognizes what shape this is, what creature this demon resembles, and yet… a-and yet—

“A… a-a… _nopon_?” Mòrag whispers in equal parts awe and horror. How, and _why_ , did _she_ end up summoning, _of all the things, a nopon?_

The demon—er, nopon—er, demon… nopon? Demon… nopon, yes.

… nopon demon?

Never mind, the more important thing is that Mòrag’s summoned a _demonic_ nopon. That’s the only thing that can explain this nopon’s wicked appearance: curved horns on the side of its head that point upward, the leathery wings on its back that resemble the small wings of a dragon whelp, its tail swishing in the air behind it, a strange smile upon its face that Mòrag is sure belies its cruel nature, and its noponic wings holding its unbound breasts in—

… _wait._

Mòrag takes a closer look at the demon nopon, coming to yet _another_ horrified realization.

The demon nopon is _naked._

Oh, _no._

Not only did she summon a nopon demon, _of all the demons to summon_ , she’s gone and gotten a _succubus._

“Meh!” The demon shakes itself—er, _herself_ (Mòrag is guessing) out. She hops closer, away from the light of the runes upon the floor, and closer to Mòrag, who can only stand there with her feet rooted to the ground. She moves her head up, presumably to look at her. Mòrag’s not even sure, the demon’s eyes are still closed.

“My name is Brighid. You are summoner that brought me into world?” the demon says suddenly. Its voice is… much lower than Mòrag’s expected, at least for something so… small. Mòrag gulps, and slowly nods. Her throat is dry. Mòrag doesn’t want to think about why that is.

“Brighid,” Mòrag says, her voice quieter than she likes it to be. “You… you were not the one I meant to summon. I… I-I…” Mòrag darts her eyes to the floor. There, she can spy one of her tomes. Perhaps, if she’s quick enough, she can escape from the demon and learn a banishing spell, or place some sort of ward upon it to buy her time.

A sudden heavy sensation comes into the air. It’s… thick, like a miasma, bearing down on Mòrag. Her whole body feels heavy, and hot. It’s… a strange sensation, Mòrag’s never quite felt this before. She feels as if she’s been set on fire from the inside out and yet, she’s… _aching_. For what, she doesn’t even know. It’s weighing down upon her mind, trying to tear at her willpower, her reservations.

Mòrag nearly succumbs to it, but only nearly. But she’s panting heavily now, trying to breathe large gulpfuls of air through her mouth. Defiantly, she looks down—

Brighid is gone.

Wait, no, that’s wrong. Rather, Brighid is right in front of her, and she has a wing wrapped around Mòrag’s leg.

Oh _no._

The only warning Mòrag has is the sound of a smug “Meh!” before Brighid tugs.

Mòrag crashes to the floor on her back, hissing through her teeth at the pain. Before she can even react, Brighid jumps upon her chest none too gently and knocks all the wind out of her. It takes a while for Mòrag to finally come back to her senses.

But when she does, Mòrag finds herself staring at Brighid, whose eyes are open. Her eyes are a deep shade of purple, a color she’s not seen elsewhere on any _human_ on Alrest.

Also, Brighid’s wings are raised in the air, which means they’re _off_ her breasts.

If there is a hell on Alrest, this might just be it, Mòrag thinks.

Mòrag wants to move. It would be easy to… to throw this demon off her chest. Except, her arms feel as heavy as lead. They won’t obey her. She can’t even lift a _finger_. All she can do is stare helplessly at the sight before her, at the demon wantonly looking her up and down.

“Summoner know what comes next, yes?” Brighid asks, still with that damnable smile on her face. “What is summoner’s name?” she asks in a soft voice, almost like she’s crooning. When Mòrag doesn't answer, she lowers her wings. She lays one upon Mòrag’s chest, running down the fabric of her shirt, and another one of them comes to stroke Mòrag’s face gently, like she’s trying to coax her.

“M-Mòrag,” she gasps out, trying so, so, _so_ hard not to think about what is coming next. She wants to run, except nothing in her body will obey her. _Move,_ she’s screaming desperately at herself, in hopes her body will react, but nothing is happening. Mòrag has always prided herself on her self-discipline and self-control, but none of it is helping her here.

It should hurt her, how she’s unable to resist.

Actually, it should pain her instead, that she got a _nopon._

“Mòrag,” Brighid says with a small nod. The wing on Mòrag’s face gives her one more stroke before trailing downward, to the buttons on her shirt.

“U-um!” Mòrag _finally_ regains use of her limbs, as she reaches out to grab the wings. “D-do _not_ attempt to—”

Her wrists are grabbed and slammed against floor. Mòrag cries out in pain, trying to figure out what’s happened—

Oh, Brighid’s grabbed her hands with her wings, and now her actual arms are fumbling with the buttons. Oh Architect, damned nopon and their extra limbs.

Mòrag struggles but Brighid holds her down. She’s trying to wiggle her body, move, do _anything_ to shake off the nopon on top of her, but Brighid seems to have gotten some kind of steady hold upon her because none of Mòrag’s efforts are even bearing any sort of fruit. All Mòrag can do is watch as Brighid fiddles with the buttons. Except it looks like something’s wrong, because an angry expression comes over Brighid’s face.

“Mehmehmeh! Clothes too complicated to get off!” Brighid suddenly cries out. She hops backward, off of Mòrag. Her wrists are released, and this would be exactly the perfect time for Mòrag to make her getaway. Except in that same moment, Brighid brings down a wing, its tip on fire, and slices straight through _all_ of Mòrag’s clothes.

Mòrag yelps, trying to cover herself up but also trying to pat out the flames. Not that she needs to, because Brighid’s helping pat them out too. “Mòrag can buy new clothes, yes?” Brighid says with a smile. Before Mòrag can even retort, Brighid trails a wing down her body, slow and deliberate.

Her fur is... impossibly soft. It’s so soft, Mòrag’s never felt anything softer in her entire life. Not even the finest luxuries back home when she cared to indulge could offer anything like _this_. The wing circle around Mòrag’s breasts, agonizingly slow. It makes Mòrag think of someone trailing their nails across her skin, except this feeling is…

Oh, _no._ This is awful. Mòrag finds herself getting... this is… this is…

Shameful. There’s no better description for what Mòrag feels right now.

And by a _nopon._ A succubus nopon still, but a _nopon,_ nonetheless.

What’s Mòrag’s life come to? She wishes she knew. But she can barely even speak, much less think. Everything is spiraling too far out of control. It feels as if a thick fog’s settled inside her mind, and trying to fight against it is like drowning. Is this the power of a succubus?

Or, has Mòrag’s own depravity awoken?

Mòrag immediately stops that train of thought. She’s not ready for this, not here, and certainly not _now._ Right now, she needs to figure out… figure out…

Brighid’s wing is no longer on her, Mòrag is slowly realizing. When she looks up, she finds Brighid in front of her instead, her wings on her knees, a smirk on that devilishly cute face.

Wait, where did her pants even go—

Oh. Right. Brighid destroyed them.

Mòrag’s breath hitches in equal parts fear and confused anticipation.

Brighid forcibly spreads her legs apart, settles herself right in between them. Her wings slide up Mòrag’s legs to hold her hips in place. Mòrag is now more parts horrified than before, especially when she catches Brighid rubbing her hands together and licking her lips before diving right in.

Mòrag snaps her eyes close and grits her teeth together. Maybe if she doesn’t look, she can imagine that she’s somewhere else, or that it’s someone else. Perhaps, it’s a beautiful woman instead, maybe someone with long silky hair that flows behind her so Mòrag can run her hands through it, and when the woman leans forward with her tongue—

“Meh meh, tasty!”

Instantly, the image in Mòrag’s mind shatters. In fact, with her eyes closed, it might just mean she can _better_ hear the noises coming from between her legs. They can only be described as horrifically obscene, what with the enthusiastic _slurping_ and all. Brighid is _really_ going at it, and Mòrag is utterly at the mercy of this noponic menace.

All the sensations happening to her are all so new that it’s overwhelming, as it’s been since the beginning. Everything about this feels… Mòrag can’t even describe it. But even with all her initial reservations, not even Mòrag can deny the pleasure threatening to overtake her. For better, or worse, she _wants_ to be able to enjoy this at least—

“Meh meh meh!”

—and _yet._

It feels _good,_ Mòrag cannot deny that. Despite the… noises that are rather more distracting than Mòrag likes, Brighid’s tongue is skillful. At least, Mòrag thinks it is, she’s never been with anyone else to know the differences between… _well_. Mòrag is struggling to contain herself as the tongue licks and presses in all the right places that make her toes curl and hips roll even more desperately. Something rough is slithering up one of her legs, coiling around it—Brighid has a _tail_ , she remembers through the haze of pleasure.

“Mehhhh!”

And she also remembers, once again, that it is still a _nopon_ with her tongue in Mòrag.

Architect, _why._

When Brighid’s tongue licks against a particular spot, the world explodes in a haze of white light behind Mòrag’s eyelids. There’s a shout and Mòrag’s not even sure if that came from her or not. She’s not aware of _anything_ except for the sudden rapture that sears through her mind.

It feels like a long time before she descends from her high. When she finally regains her bearings, that’s when she starts to realize what must have happened.

Mòrag’s questionably achieved the first orgasm of her life in a sea of pleasure, confusion, mortification, and to the sounds of “mehmehmeh!!” in the background.

She’s spent, panting as she struggles to catch her breath and calm herself. _Now_ is a good time to wonder where exactly in her life she went wrong. Was it trying to summon a demon? Was it _thinking_ that summoning a demon to save her country was a perfectly good idea?

No… thinking about this is getting her nowhere. She’s already summoned the demon, and, for better or worse, their… fates are now bound together through Mòrag’s own mistake. She… she might as well get to thinking how she can at least salvage this pact, see what she can do with Brighid.

Mòrag tiredly looks up just in time to see Brighid use her wing to wipe off her mouth. “ _Deee_ licious,” Brighid says with a purr.

Mòrag slowly puts her hands on her face and silently screams into them.

Brighid starts to step backward. Her wings slide off of Mòrag’s hips and trail down her legs, giving a pat to both of Mòrag’s knees before finally moving off. Mòrag spreads open her fingers, just to see what’s happening now.

“Since Mòrag was… so good and tasty,” Brighid stops to emphasize her words with a lick of her lips. Mòrag nearly screams aloud but settles for internally screeching. “Brighid will give special treat for Mòrag.”

Brighid turns around and lays down on the floor. She raises her lower half, wiggling her—

Oh, Architect, _oh_.

“Brighid will let Mòrag spank it!” Brighid says, a little _too_ enthusiastically for Mòrag. But before Mòrag can even say or do anything, one of her wings hold up a tip. “But only once!”

Mòrag covers her face and screams.


End file.
